


One Way Ticket

by TheShippingMaster



Series: In The Aftermath [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dad!Tony, I love May, Infinity War spoilers, fuck me up, i will ride this angst train ALL day, im really interested in may and tony's relationship after finding out peter was spiderman, she's such a mama bear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShippingMaster/pseuds/TheShippingMaster
Summary: "Did he suffer?"Mr Stark, I don't feel so good"No," Tony lied.





	One Way Ticket

Out of all he’d lost, Tony never thought that this would hurt the most. It was a more intense pain, a more acute unfamiliar feeling that ached his heart. Every cell in his body screamed agony, even though he didn't aloud. He waited, expecting the tears to come, to wash Peter's ashes from his face, to finally empty himself of all feeling. But nothing happened. He cradled his ashen hand, praying this tragedy could be undone.

Pepper came back to him, Peter would do the same.

Oh God. Pepper.

Tony breathed life into his lungs, filled with new anxiety. He had to get to her. They had to plan their wedding. They had to plan their future, plan baby Morgan’s room. They were going to have an life.

_But._

Tony stared at his hand, the one covered in Peter’s ashes. He felt sick. He couldn’t leave the kid. He couldn’t leave Peter’s ashes on this planet, not when there were people who loved him back home, not when he would carry this guilt with him everywhere.

He closed his eyes and took deep, long breaths. Clear heads got work done, not clouded ones. Think, Tony, think.

A small whine escaped his lips as he continued his internal battle of Pepper vs Peter. He had to get back to Earth anyway – he couldn’t live on a desolate planet alone with this blue alien. Using his ash-free hand, Tony punched the ground, and punched the ground, and punched and punched and punched. He kept punching until his knuckles were bloody and he went back to feeling numb.

“Fuck!” he swore. He kicked away rubble, falling backward.

Turning his head to the right, he imagined Peter laying down like he had. If he were here right now, even as a corpse, Tony would be staring into the kid’s face. Would a corpse be better than dust?

Every part of Tony hurt. As he rested, Tony felt his body ache from every punch Thanos delivered. His head was ringing, his stomach was on fire, even his thighs and calves were too worked up and protested against his weight. The broken suit, his beautiful suit, trapped him in, and he tore himself out.

“We have to get off this planet,” the blue alien muttered, still staring at the large structures.

“Oh yeah, _really_?” Tony snapped. He clutched his side, pain shooting from his shredded stomach.

She didn’t reply, instead setting off away from Tony toward a small aircraft.

Tony hit the ground again, remembering to breathe. Count to ten and you will think properly; do it for the kid.

It took some time, but Tony eventually pushed himself off the ground and away from Peter’s ghost. His ashen hand tightened into a fist as he walked away, not looking back for fearing he would drop down and cry.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, he and Nebula (yeah, that was her name) managed to find a working ship, which she later explained was actually the Guardian’s ship. He was fairly impressed with the mechanics of it all.

Everything he feared for Earth came true.

As they flew over New York, he could practically see the chaos happening down below. Fires and smoke dotted the city skyline, and in this dying sunlight the orange hues bled together.

Nebula landed the ship fairly well, albeit she nearly crashed into the Avenger’s base. She’d worn the same stoic expression since Titan, and had stayed just as silent too. Throughout the entire trip Tony wondered how to bring up conversation, if he should empathize her loss of her sister. He decided against it. The silence was for the best.

Pepper had to be fine.

The doors of the ship opened and Tony breathed in Earth’s air. He never knew how much he missed it.

Agents of the Avengers greeted him with his tech aimed at his head. Realising that Ironman had returned, they lowered they weapons. Nebula making her appearance from behind him raised their tensions.

“She’s with me, don’t worry,” Tony assured, waving at her presence like it was no big deal.

“Mr Stark, your fiancée is inside-“ an Agent began to say, but was interrupted by Pepper breaking through the wall of agents.

She crashed into him, hugging him and peppering his face with kisses. “Tony, oh thank god you’re okay.” Pepper noticed the bruises and scratches on his face, placing her hands on his head so he could only look at her. “Hey, are you hurt? Tony, please talk to me,” she whispered.

It was bliss, knowing that Pepper was alive. But he felt guilty that she was alive when . . .

Tony pecked her on the lips, too numb to do anything else but stagger forward clutching his side.

“I have to make a phone call.”

 

* * *

 

The wait had been horrible. Tony sat on his stool, staring straight ahead at the painting hanging above his and Pepper’s bed. He’d always liked it, but right now he hated it. It was too happy, too cheerful on a day like this.

While he waited for May, Pepper had tried to clean him up. She was particularly worried about his bloody hand, ordering FRIDAY to call any doctor who was alive to come immediately to the Avenger’s base. He refused to wash either on his hands, refusing to explain why it was important for May to see them. Like the sport she was, Pepper pestered him about it before eventually realising that he was doing his best not to cry.

She slipped her arms around him and squeezed. “Please talk to me, Tony. Please.”

“Not yet.” His voice cracked.

An agent escorted May to the meeting room. This would’ve been Happy’s job but, like Peter, he was . . . gone.

Tony wished he hadn’t ask Pepper to leave him alone; he could see the red-rimmed eyes and the puffiness on that beautiful face. Oh god, she must be so worried about Peter.

“Tony,” she greeted, not particularly with any warmth.

“May,” he returned, gesturing to the seat on front of him, “please, take a seat.”

She didn’t, instead deciding it was best to remain standing as far away from him as possible. The distrust oozing from her unhinged him, a foreign feeling from someone who was generally so kind.

“Where is he?” Her voice barely broke above a whisper.

“May-”

“I knew it,” she breathed. Her back found the wall and she slid down, eyes shut tight and her fists pushed against her temples. May wasn’t crying. No, she’d probably used all her tears on the way up here.

Tony was paralyzed to his cushioned chair. This felt like the perfect metaphor; the elite being comfortable while the periphery suffered on the floor, in a league of their own because how could the elite ever understand.

She was his parent. She raised him alone. She loved him.

“May,” Tony tried again, clearing his throat.

“This is your fault.”

Tony was taken aback at the simplicity of her resentment, because that was what it was: resentment. She never wanted this for Peter. He thought of saying something back, something witty and sarcastic and so _Tony_. But his mind drew up short; he had nothing.

“He should’ve never accepted the suit. I should have shut this down years ago.” May took in shuddering breaths. “This world was too dangerous and he could not save everyone, but he wanted to. I should’ve never let you convince me to keep doing this.” She stared up at Tony with the fiercest snarl. “This is your fault.”

When Tony stayed silent, May hopped back to her feet and stared at his broken self. She slammed her hands on the glass table.

“He should be here right now, not you!”

“You’re not wrong there,” he whispered.

She continued to stare at him with such loathing and spite that Tony could taste the bitterness in the air.

A twinge in Tony’s side caused him to double over, clutching his wound. He coughed and was not very surprised to see specks of blood fly onto his pristine table. Carefully picking his suit off, he had to breathe through the jolts of pain. The bandage was bleeding through. Great.

“Shit, Tony,” May sucked in air, eyeing his chest. She closed her eyes, as if at war with herself, and when they reopened she tentatively took steps to him.

“I’m fine,” he gurgled, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and spitting. It was a wonder that he wasn’t used to the taste of blood.

“No,” she murmured, “you’re not.” May frowned at the sight of his hands; maybe now it felt a little ridiculous to keep them this damaged. He maybe should have cleaned up his messed up one.

Tony watched as she took his hands into hers, examining his bloody and scratched hand with discontent. He wondered how she could be so furious with him and yet so gentle; if he were her he would’ve punched him by now. Maybe she would. He didn’t know.

“Your hands are absolute shit. And what is this?” she asked, peering at the black flecks dotting Tony.

A lump rose in Tony’s throat. He felt the beginnings of one of his attacks coming on and started to heave deep breaths. He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want her to know that she was holding all that was left of her nephew. He didn’t want to tell her about how he died, scared and frightened and so very young.

May’s expression changed. It might’ve been the anguish in his face, or the fact that in the last twenty-four hours she’d been surrounded by her colleagues who, now, resembled the same ashen dust. She dropped his hand like he was diseased.

Despite himself, tears threatened to fall.

_I don’t wanna go. Please, sir, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go._

Fuck.

May had returned to the floor, clutching to the table like it was her only life support. She was in her own personal hell now.

“How did he go?”

The tears fell to his cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“Did he suffer?”

_Mr Stark, I don’t feel so good._

“No,” Tony lied.

May nodded and glanced up, but seemed to look past the ceiling, perhaps to something more spiritual. The red returned to her eyes, but she fought back with a smile.

“Were you with him?”

“Until he wasn’t.”

She exhaled another shuddering breath. “Thank you.”


End file.
